Jane, Maura, and the Swamp Monster
by saoulbete
Summary: "Look at you! You're not a boy, you're some sort of - swamp thing" A sickeningly sweet bit of fluff set some years down the line. -c&c-


A/N this is a very, very loose sequel to _Like a Horse and Carriage_, and both stand on their own. Enjoy this sickeningly sweet piece of domestic tranquility.

* * *

"Ma?" She groans, hearing the cracking voice echo through the house. Just when she'd finally gotten settled with the crossword and a cup of coffee for a lazy Sunday afternoon her damned nephew had to come home. As always, she got a stern look from Maura, just for even _thinking_ of the twelve year old as her nephew. Though technically so, Tony had been under their care for so long, that he'd long since stopped calling them _Auntie Jane _ and _Aunt Maura_ and had, instead, lapsed into _Ma _and _Mom._ She'd originally been uncomfortable about it, until the first time Tony called her Ma in front of Tommy. Her little brother had merely grinned, and commented on how the boy was truly a Rizzoli, getting the perfect inflection for the word. She hadn't expected that. She'd expected some sort of pain, hurt, sorrow, something from Tommy, but the only look she got was one of joy.

She'd questioned – interrogated, really – him months later, and the answer she got was enough to make her not care about what Tony thought of her as. Her brother – selfless as ever – had wanted what was best for his son. If that meant regarding herself and Maura as his parents, then he was fine with that. They were supposed to have been a stopgap measure while Tommy got his life back together after Candi ran off, leaving him alone with a three year old, and in over his head. Tommy had known he wasn't fit to be a parent. He hadn't wanted to be a parent, but he _was_ a Rizzoli. He wasn't the sort to have just run off like he'd wanted to. This was the better option, and everyone knew it. Nine years later, _Dad_ had somehow become _Uncle Tommy_, and _Auntie Jane_ had become _Ma._

And outside of moments like this, when she had her first moment alone with Maura to just relax all week, only to be interrupted, she couldn't have been happier about that change. Couldn't have been happier about the easy adaptability of young children. They hadn't tried to teach him anything – but when the other kids all talked about their mommies and daddies at daycare, in preschool, he'd quickly adapted and started viewing herself and Maura as his parents. And she was fine with that. She'd gotten her chance to coach little league – the state champions at that, and proper tackling form as she watched her son stop game winning touchdowns in Pop Warner.

She'd gotten the best of both worlds, and hadn't had to give anything up for it. Somewhere along the line, her life had become this, and she wasn't sure exactly where it was. There had just been this natural progression of things. From befriending Maura, to moving in with her, to their slowly started sexual exploration, to _this._ She had sworn up one side and down the other that she hadn't wanted a wedding, yet a photograph of the two of them, both clad in white, laughing and embracing on the beach in Cape Cod was set centerpiece on the mantle, surrounded by pictures of Tony, of Frankie and his two daughters, of the entirety of the Rizzoli clan.

Somehow, her life had turned out exactly the opposite of how she'd always pictured it, and strangely, she was all right with that. There were a few things that she would change, if she could. If she'd known how good it would be, she would have skipped the awkwardness between her and Maura and gotten straight to the sex, she would have found a way to get demoted from lieutenant – a promotion she had only taken because trying to fit a four year old into the schedule of a homicide detective and a coroner was rather difficult – but now that Tony was grown up enough to take care of himself she found herself missing the grunt work, and hating the paperwork. But overall, her life had turned out wonderfully. Better than she'd thought.

"Ma!" The voice echoed through the hall again.

"What!" She shouted back, earning her another reproachful glance from her wife.

"I'm starving! What's there to eat around here?" She sighed, looking at Maura for a bit of help. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure what was in their fridge. There'd been a triple homicide earlier that week, and she'd been busy with the fact that two of the junior detectives had quite possibly violated chain of custody with crucial evidence, and had spent most of the last few days trying to clean up their messes before the case got presented to the DA's.

"Uh-uh. I cooked all week. Your turn." She frowned at Maura, who happily picked the style section out of the paper, idly flipping through it.

"Some wife you are." She muttered under her breath as she got up from her entirely too comfortable spot on the couch. Maura's only indication of having heard the comment was the solid thwack of the style section hitting her ass as she left.

She made it to the kitchen and froze. There are many things that being a cop will prepare one for. Gory gruesome crime scenes sort of desensitize people to the worst situations. But nothing could have prepared her the sight in front of her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath, hoping that it was all a bad dream. When she opened them again, she found herself faced with the same sight. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she tried to calm herself down. She'd known that the rain had been terrible over the last few days, but she hadn't thought there was that much mud in the entire city of Boston. "Ma?" He asked, taking a step forward as she stepped back.

"Anthony Thomas Rizzoli do not take another step into this house."

"Ma?" He questioned again. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong! Look at you! You're not a boy, you're – you're – some sort of swamp monster! Look at this kitchen – how the hell-" Maura had surfaced from the couch, alarmed by the sudden use of their son's full name. Usually Jane only resorted to that tactic when something had gone very, very wrong. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight in front of her, before she couldn't help it. She laughed. First one little hiccup of a laugh, than another, and then she had her head buried against the back of Jane's shoulder, trying to stifle her laughter. "And what are you laughing at?" Jane complained , a smile surfacing at the corners of her lips. She attempted to keep it at bay, but was having difficulty with her wife draped against her, convulsing with laughter.

"Backyard, now." She was glad that Maura had come to her senses enough to be able to speak. Tony dutifully turned around, trotting back outside, as Maura headed towards where the hose was. "Now stand still." Tony looked at the two of them for a moment before shaking his head.

"_Mo-om_, do you have to? Can't I just leave all this muddy stuff out here?" They shared a smile at the way that Tony managed to drag a one syllable word out into two, all with his whining tone.

"I am not going to let you walk all over white carpets looking like that. Besides, it's a nice day out." There was a moment's pause as Jane watched Maura unravel the hose, and watched as Tony got a familiar Rizzoli glint in his eye. She tensed, coiling, ready to go as she waited for Tony to start what she knew was about to happen.

"Well you're going to have to catch me first!" That was her cue to take off after the sprinting pre-teen, trying her best to hurdle toys that had unknown, random placements. Tony, on the other hand, knowing the backyard like the back of his hand had an advantage. But even knowing the placement of each obstacle did not make up for his mother's twice-as-long legs. She caught up to him, and using the same perfect tackling technique that she had taught to him, she brought him to the ground, giggling along with him. "Ha!" She wondered what had the squirming child underneath her sounding so triumphant as she tickled away until she looked down upon herself, realizing that the tackle had sent her sliding a solid three yards across the lawn, leaving her almost as muddy as he was.

She paused for a moment, ready to scold the boy before she got the same mischievous glint in her eye that he had just had. "You know who's missing from all this?" She whispered, looking at her son conspiratorially. "I think Mom could stand to be involved in this." They shared a very Rizzoli grin between the two of them, and started heading back, both of them looking suitably upset and ready for a rinse off. Maura hadn't even realized they were separating to flank her until it was too late. There was a momentary attempt at defence, spraying the hose wildly back and forth between the two approaching attackers, before a strong arm wrapped around her waist and she was pulled down into the mud to join the other two family members already wallowing therein.

There was a shriek that she would never not find adorable as she watched honey blonde hair turn brown with mud. "I am going to kill you both." The attempt at menacing tone was lost as Maura tried, and failed to stifle a laugh. "Look at this. My outfit is ruined."

"You mean _my_ outfit, hon. I'm pretty sure that's my shirt you're wearing." She grinned as her wife looked down, and realized that the Boston PD shirt was, in fact, not hers. The only response she got was a sudden high pressure blast from the hose that Maura still had in her hand. The two of them looked at each other, then at their son, and back at each other again. Tony knew what that sort of look meant. He wasn't his mothers' son for nothing. After all, growing up with a mother that could read people like a book and a mom that solved homicides in record amounts of time, one learns things about reading body language. And right now, the body language between his parents was telling him that he should run.

He attempted to gain some sort of traction in the slippery ground, finding his Converse to be sadly lacking in the grip department, as both women turned on him with a downright _evil _look in their eyes. Before he could manage to get away, the cold blast of water hit him, rooting him in place. "Ma!" He tried to appeal to Jane, who usually was much more willing to sympathize with him, get him out of the punishments, groundings, and time outs that Maura often attempted to enforce.

"Uh-huh." Jane shook her head, laughing against her wife's shoulder as the mud slowly washed away, revealing five foot even of dark hair, strengthening jaw, and gangling limbs hidden underneath his creature-from-the-yard-lagoon facade he'd constructed. "How did you get so dirty anyway?" She questioned, not seeing any divots in the yard other than the ones they'd just created, before she gasped as the mud washed away to reveal a quickly blackening eye. "On second thought, I don't want to know."

"Ma, you know how Hotdog is." She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Johnnie Frankfort, the neighborhood bully. She should have known the boy would have something to do with this. "Well, he was picking on lil' Ashley. She's just a kid, Ma. So I slugged him, and he slugged me back. And well, it turned into a bit of a – well, mess. You should see _him_ though. I think I broke his nose." She beamed proudly at the boy until a sharp backhand to her stomach knocked the wind out of her.

"What was that for?" She complained, looking at Maura with raised eyebrows.

"Jane, our son just _assaulted_ another boy. Don't encourage him."

"But he had it coming." Maura sighed, and she grinned even further, fully realizing that her whining made her sound even younger than the boy in front of them. She paused, and did her best to put on her serious parent impression. "Yes, Tony. Your mother has a point. You can't just go around punching anyone you have a problem with. Even if they're being a bully. That's why people like adults exist."

"Because you can hit harder?" She couldn't help the smile that broke its way through her facade.

"No, because we can take care of things in ways that don't involve violence." She was glad that Maura had decided to step into the conversation, sure that if she opened her mouth, she was just going to encourage him further.

"You heard your mother. Now go upstairs and wash up!" She laughed at the mock salute she got in response, watching as Tony trotted off inside to shower and change. "And don't forget to wash behind your ears!" She yelled, not entirely sure if he could hear her through the windows.

"I can't believe you were _proud_ of the fact that he beat up another child." She looked at Maura and groaned. They were not going to have this conversation.

"You know what Hotdog's like, Maura. Picking on Linda and Garret's little girl? The boy had it coming. Someone had to put him in his place."

"Even if Johnnie Frankfort had it coming, you shouldn't encourage our son to act in a violent manner." She sighed, looking at her wife.

"And that backhand you gave me was just so nonviolent."

"That was different." She simply raised her eyebrows. Part of her knew that she could plead injury, if only to see Maura in full doctor mode, doting over her, ever apologetic over actually causing her harm, but she decided to put the idea on the backburner. After all, it wasn't even noon yet, there was the whole afternoon to complain about potential bruising. "That was a loving gesture to stop you from encouraging our son to engage in reckless behavior."

"Maura, he's twelve. Reckless behavior is what twelve year olds do."

"And next thing you know he's going to be loitering, and shoplifting and-" She couldn't help but laugh. That was why she loved her wife. Loved the way that ordinary situations became overblown, and epic crime scenes became little tiny things that got analyzed and ignored. ''/

"I told you boxing lessons wouldn't hurt. At least then, he could punch things without getting in trouble."

"I will not have our son grow up to be a pugilist. It's bad enough he plays football. Really, the risk of head injuries in pre-pubescent children from football is staggering, and the repetetive action of helmet-on-helmet contact has been shown to cause brain damage on the level of-"

"You're giving me brain damage, just talking."

"I wouldn't be so glib, _Lieutenant._ You're forgetting who's armed and dangerous here."

"You wouldn't."

"Just try me." She took a step forward, unable to help the shriek that came out as cold water assaulted her. She continued through the onslaught though, intent on reaching her target.

"You're going to pay for that." She whispered in Maura's ear as she wrapped an arm around a trim waist, dropping them both to the ground below, earning herself another adorable yelp, before she placed a gentle kiss to a surprisingly pristine cheek. They lay there laughing for what felt like an eternity, content to be in each other's arms. "You're beautiful like this, you know that?" She said, seriously, as she propped herself up on one arm to take a good look at the mud-splattered, bedraggeled, love of her life.

"You're not so bad yourself_._" They shared a grin, and a long, slow kiss. "We should probably shower."

"Lead the way." She said, springing to her feet and holding out her hand for Maura to hang on to, trying to find traction in the slippery ground, before the walked in, arms wrapped around each other, both content to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon together.


End file.
